My person has lost her mind. She thinks she can predict the future. As a cat, I recognize that the future is a myth right up there with unicorns and Bigfoot. Unfortunately, it seems that the majority of people believe the future is real.
At this very moment, I can feel my soft bed. I can hear the refrigerator humming. I can see and smell my person’s shoes lying in the middle of the floor. There’s no denying the present.
Before my people, there was a cage. Before that, I had another human home where I learned my best habits, like scavenging for people food. The past is as real as the present but I don’t dwell on it. What’s the point?
But the future, what an illogical concept. If it hasn’t already happened and it’s not happening now, how can it be real? But when you love a person, you have to respect her beliefs and so I don’t mock mine for believing in the future. But lately, things have gotten out of hand.
She’s really losing it. She’s gone past simply believing in the future to claiming to see it. She has a bottle of nasty pills that she says can alter the future. They taste bitter; that means they're bad. Swallowing one feels weird. Translation: bad. But her belief in these pills' future-altering powers is so strong that she uses physical force on me. It’s almost an unfair fight.
“Honey, you have to take this medicine,” she says. “It will make you feel better.”
Try as I might, I cannot understand a belief system in which eating this pill creates positive future change. Because it’s not real.
It's gotten to where I'm refusing on the grounds that my person is delusional and possibly dangerous. I can tell by her eyes and her voice that she means well and that she really does want the best for me, but being the only sensible one in this scenario, I refuse. I know it pains her when I clamp my jaw shut and spit that pill out. It breaks my heart to see my person so upset. But she's lost her mind and I'm stronger than that.
About Me (and my cats)
In January, 2018, my sassy tortoiseshell cat Oliva hijacked my blog. Padron, my easygoing tabby cat, soon followed her example. I did nothing to stop them because I thought they had some pretty interesting things to say. In April, Oliva died. To say we miss her is a pathetic understatement. She was sweet and bossy and unforgettable. And while I'll allow Padron to continue blogging from time to time, I think he needs to share this space with me. It's my blog, after all. Stay tuned for posts from me, the human running this site.